


Sleepwalking

by ErinHoltzmann



Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Sleepwalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:12:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2824709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinHoltzmann/pseuds/ErinHoltzmann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The next night, I almost had an accident, and I would surely have died, hadn’t it been for Raffles’ natural curiosity. During the night, I got up, still fast asleep, and found my way out onto the street when a hansom full of people driving home after a Christmas party almost became my doom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepwalking

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic was written for my friend [Julia](http://doctorriversongsdiary.tumblr.com/) because we both share a love for Raffles.

It was Christmas time, and Christmas time in London was always, in my opinion, a time to be avoided. Any other time of the year, London was endurable, even the smog-darkened summertime with its smothering heat, but the sheer masses of people who flocked to the city like vultures flock around a dead body, made it impossible to stand going out, even if it was just for a short walk. I tended to stay indoors during the whole month of December, only leaving the flat to attend to the necessary Christmas shopping.

Raffles, on the other hand, thrived more during this time than during any other month of the year. “What better opportunity than the hustle and bustle of the busy streets than to practice my pickpocketing skills,” he would often remind me.

I’d never taken my good friend for much of a pickpocket, but it was a hobby he liked to pursue whenever various better opportunities had fallen through. It had never interested me to follow him on these short excursions; firstly, because I didn’t want to leave the comforts of the flat, and, secondly, because the risk of being revealed a pickpocket wasn’t worth it.

The constant stress I was under began to manifest itself in a kind of sleeping sickness from which I hadn’t suffered since my early youth. Whenever I was under immense mental pressure, I would start to sleepwalk in the middle of the night. So far, I had managed not to put myself in any danger, but the fear of hurting myself or others in my unconscious yet moving state added to me not being able to vanish into the sweet relief of sleep during the nights.

This condition had persisted for at least a week when it first came to the attention of my good friend Raffles. He found me one morning lying on the kitchen floor, where I had apparently fallen asleep after wandering around the flat the previous night. To him, the whole affair seemed funny, but I was too embarrassed about the incident to laugh much about his jokes. I dreaded what I would do next.

The next night, I almost had an accident, and I would surely have died, hadn’t it been for Raffles’ natural curiosity. During the night, I got up, still fast asleep, and found my way out onto the street when a hansom full of people driving home after a Christmas party almost became my doom.

Raffles told me later he’d been roused by me hastily moving through the living room, and he could have woken me up then and there, but instead his curiosity got the better of him and he decided to follow me wherever I was going to see what I would do.

As I walked out onto the street and Raffles spotted the hansom approaching with neck-breaking speed, he pulled me back into his arms and into safety. I, woken by the sudden pull on my sleeve, couldn’t make much sense of my surroundings until Raffles explained to me what had happened. I should have been angry with him for putting my life unnecessarily in danger, but I also had to admit I had myself to blame for letting Christmas affect me in this way.

Back in the flat, a glass of whisky in my hand, I felt life being restored to my old bones. Raffles only smirked at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes, one I had learned to fear but also to anticipate eagerly over all these years we had spent together.

“This condition of yours is rather interesting,” he remarked, lighting a cigarette. “It could be of great use to us.”

“I don’t think so,” I said warily. “So far, I’ve failed to burgle people while I was asleep.”

“Oh, Bunny,” Raffles exclaimed, “you need a more vivid imagination, my friend. Don’t you see it? Your condition gives us an excuse to enter whichever house or apartment we want.”

I failed to make the connection and told Raffles so.

“It’s really very simple,” he explained. “I can pretend to be looking for my dear friend who sleepwalks and simultaneously follow my passion.”

“But I’ve never entered a strange building,” I pointed out. “I fail to see of what use this whole affair is to us.”

“Well, people don’t know that,” Raffles pointed out. “And the best lie is the one closest to the truth.”

“It doesn’t sound like fun to me,” I grumped. “Wouldn’t you miss breaking in in the middle of the night? Where’s the thrill in ringing the doorbell and being granted entrance?”

“There is much thrill in robbing people right under their very noses,” Raffles exclaimed, clapping his hands together in glee.

His cheer wasn’t catching, however, and I sunk deeper into my chair in resignation. Raffles must’ve noticed it because suddenly his face went serious and he stood up only to sink to his knees in front of me.

“Of course, my dear Bunny, should you be unhappy with this idea, I will not use it,” he said, putting his hand on my knee.

“No, it’s fine,” I answered with a dismissive wave of my hand. “I just hate the feeling of helplessness it gives me, this sense of foreboding, as if every night could be my last one, as you’ve just seen.”

“But I am here to look after you,” my friend pointed out. “I won’t let anything happen to you. What would I be without my rabbit?”

I looked down onto his face and could not see any deceit in his eyes, which filled me with new confidence.

He sat up straighter, so our faces were closer together than would have been appropriate for a simple conversation. Then I felt his hand on my neck, pulling my face even closer.

“You are invaluable to our cause,” he said firmly, before kissing me forcefully. “Do not ever forget that, Bunny Manders.”

I nodded,” Do not worry, I will not,” I promised.


End file.
